Aeon Rising:Does anyone else realize that a 'blood diamond' is any diamond that does not come through the corrupt and morally bankrupt debeers cartel?

False.Diamonds from the Ekati (sic?), GE Pegasus diamonds, cremain diamonds are not blood diamonds. Ekati is Canadian, GE's are industrial diamonds beautified to look pretty, and the cremains diamonds are considered synth. None are sold through the DeBeers diamond exchange, and should have certificates and or laser etching on the girdle

//Fark hobbyist gemologists represent//depending on the cut, 1.5ct is about a 6-7 mm stone

JesseL:My brother-in-law is a Sri Lankan gem dealer, so I'm getting a kick...

True story. Back in 1980 give or take a year, before the Troubles there, I was in USNS Wilkes in the Indian Ocean, stopping now and then at Colombo. We were told by an Old Hand (he had a lot of fun with us, most of which we didn't figure out til later) that the best gems could be had on Gem Street in downtown Colombo. He told us, "the Buddhist dealers are on one side of the street. The Hindu dealers are on the other side. Avoid them all. Go down to the end of the street and stop at Muhammad Ali's shop. Only honest man on the street. Tell him I sent you. You'll be glad you did."

So we make port call in Colombo (something to see, only place I've been where the stevedores all wear sarongs), and head down to gem street. Sure enough, the Sinhalese shops are on the left, the Tamil shops are on the right. We walk down to the end and there's Muhammad Ali's. We walk in expecting to see some big Muslim guy, like the boxer. Out comes this tiny, ancient, brown, bent-over guy who looks exactly like Gunga Din. He recognizes us as Americans, shows us to his displays, no pressure. I didn't buy anything then but my friends did and they wound up very happy with their purchases.

Two-three years later I'm back in Colombo, and I'm looking for a nice-sized stone. Make a beeline to the end of Gem Street. Sure enough, Muhammad Ali's is still there. I walk in, the old guy is still there, browner, more ancient, more bent over. He sees me and cries out "American ship Wil-keys!" Recognized me instantly. Bought a very nice sapphire from him, not a native stone but a real steal. Thirty years later and it's in my wife's wedding ring. Wonder if Muhammad Ali's still there.

I just spent a week in Sri Lanka. Cool place, great food (if you can handle spicy), nice people. It's just too damn far.

Didn't buy any gems while I was there, but my wife's wedding ring stone is an alexandrite from Sri Lanka. Looks way nicer & more interesting than a diamond, is actually rare, and to hell with De Beers.

biatchqueen:Ekati (sic?), GE Pegasus diamonds, cremain diamonds are not blood diamonds. Ekati is Canadian, GE's are industrial diamonds beautified to look pretty, and the cremains diamonds are considered synth. None are sold through the DeBeers diamond exchange, and should have certificates and or laser etching

But I hate debeers, and your comment undermines one of my reasons for my feelings towards them.

That means I feel threatened by you and therefore must call you a troll.

True story. Back in 1980 give or take a year, before the Troubles there, I was in USNS Wilkes in the Indian Ocean, stopping now and then at Colombo. We were told by an Old Hand (he had a lot of fun with us, most of which we didn't figure out til later) that the best gems could be had on Gem Street in downtown Colombo. He told us, "the Buddhist dealers are on one side of the street. The Hindu dealers are on the other side. Avoid them all. Go down to the end of the street and stop at Muhammad Ali's shop. Only honest man on the street. Tell him I sent you. You'll be glad you did."

So we make port call in Colombo (something to see, only place I've been where the stevedores all wear sarongs), and head down to gem street. Sure enough, the Sinhalese shops are on the left, the Tamil shops are on the right. We walk down to the end and there's Muhammad Ali's. We walk in expecting to see some big Muslim guy, like the boxer. Out comes this tiny, ancient, brown, bent-over guy who looks exactly like Gunga Din. He recognizes us as Americans, shows us to his displays, no pressure. I didn't buy anything then but my friends did and they wound up very happy with their purchases.

Two-three years later I'm back in Colombo, and I'm looking for a nice-sized stone. Make a beeline to the end of Gem Street. Sure enough, Muhammad Ali's is still there. I walk in, the old guy is still there, browner, more ancient, more bent over. He sees me and cries out "American ship Wil-keys!" Recognized me instantly. Bought a very nice sapphire from him, not a native stone but a real steal. Thirty years later and it's in my wife's wedding ring. Wonder if Muhammad Ali's still there.

True story. Back in 1980 give or take a year, before the Troubles there, I was in USNS Wilkes in the Indian Ocean, stopping now and then at Colombo. We were told by an Old Hand (he had a lot of fun with us, most of which we didn't figure out til later) that the best gems could be had on Gem Street in downtown Colombo. He told us, "the Buddhist dealers are on one side of the street. The Hindu dealers are on the other side. Avoid them all. Go down to the end of the street and stop at Muhammad Ali's shop. Only honest man on the street. Tell him I sent you. You'll be glad you did."

So we make port call in Colombo (something to see, only place I've been where the stevedores all wear sarongs), and head down to gem street. Sure enough, the Sinhalese shops are on the left, the Tamil shops are on the right. We walk down to the end and there's Muhammad Ali's. We walk in expecting to see some big Muslim guy, like the boxer. Out comes this tiny, ancient, brown, bent-over guy who looks exactly like Gunga Din. He recognizes us as Americans, shows us to his displays, no pressure. I didn't buy anything then but my friends did and they wound up very happy with their purchases.

Two-three years later I'm back in Colombo, and I'm looking for a nice-sized stone. Make a beeline to the end of Gem Street. Sure enough, Muhammad Ali's is still there. I walk in, the old guy is still there, browner, more ancient, more bent over. He sees me and cries out "American ship Wil-keys!" Recognized me instantly. Bought a very nice sapphire from him, not a native stone but a real steal. Thirty years later and it's in my wife's wedding ring. Wonder if Muhammad Ali's still there.

True story. Back in 1980 give or take a year, before the Troubles there, I was in USNS Wilkes in the Indian Ocean, stopping now and then at Colombo. We were told by an Old Hand (he had a lot of fun with us, most of which we didn't figure out til later) that the best gems could be had on Gem Street in downtown Colombo. He told us, "the Buddhist dealers are on one side of the street. The Hindu dealers are on the other side. Avoid them all. Go down to the end of the street and stop at Muhammad Ali's shop. Only honest man on the street. Tell him I sent you. You'll be glad you did."

So we make port call in Colombo (something to see, only place I've been where the stevedores all wear sarongs), and head down to gem street. Sure enough, the Sinhalese shops are on the left, the Tamil shops are on the right. We walk down to the end and there's Muhammad Ali's. We walk in expecting to see some big Muslim guy, like the boxer. Out comes this tiny, ancient, brown, bent-over guy who looks exactly like Gunga Din. He recognizes us as Americans, shows us to his displays, no pressure. I didn't buy anything then but my friends did and they wound up very happy with their purchases.

Two-three years later I'm back in Colombo, and I'm looking for a nice-sized stone. Make a beeline to the end of Gem Street. Sure enough, Muhammad Ali's is still there. I walk in, the old guy is still there, browner, more ancient, more bent over. He sees me and cries out "American ship Wil-keys!" Recognized me instantly. Bought a very nice sapphire from him, not a native stone but a real steal. Thirty years later and it's in my wife's wedding ring. Wonder if Muhammad Ali's still there.

It has been mentioned, your experiences need to written down. Your family, and others who have known old salts, would love to have the opportunity read them. In a hundred years, or even a few decades, those places and the ability to have those experiences may have gone the way of the bulk carriers.